


Something Blue

by BakerGrey



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, London, M/M, Narry - Freeform, No one gets hurt, The other boys aren't really in it, lots of fluff, pints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 18:31:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2120319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakerGrey/pseuds/BakerGrey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry rides a motor cycle. Niall rides a bike. They collide (literally) and they're both pretty much gone for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I just had to write Narry because they are my guilty pleasure.

It’s achingly hot and he’s sweating like a pig in a butcher’s shop as his motorbike comes to a halt at a dodgy red light. He can tell it’s fucked because it’s been flickering for the past thirty seconds but he can’t tell if it’s about to change to an amber or if it’s gonna blow. Then he’s humming that crappy Kesha song and questioning whether or not he can take his jacket off before the light finally makes up its mind. There’s a row of cars lined up alongside him, tooting the one to his very left, tempting it to jump the red light. He keeps his jacket on because, fuck it, he looks good in leather, and just as he’s about to do what the driver beside him doesn’t have the balls to, a cycle is coming to a screeching halt in front of him, the rubber wheels catching on his larger ones and sending its owner in his direction. Harry can see the fall coming before it happens and braces himself for the sudden contact of concrete. His helmet hits the ground with a dull thud and he can feel both the weight of his motor on him and the prat who’s crashed into him.

“Shite,” It’s coming from above him and sounding very Irish.

There’s shuffling before one of the weights is relieved and then Harry is pulling his leg out from under his bike. He doesn’t move to pick it up; instead he’s turning his head, ready to give the cyclist a good bollocking. His hands grasp the base of his helmet and he takes it off. His eyes adjust to shine of the sun and narrow at the man in front of him. He’s got a sheepish smile on his face and his cheeks are a rosy pink.

“Bashed me nut on your helmet,” He half chuckles rubbing at his head. He’s wearing a fucking snapback of all things.

“Know how to use your brakes?” Harry snaps at the blonde in front of him, sweat making his curls stick to his forehead.

The pair of blue eyes looking at him sparkle a little at the mention of the word.

“Don’t have any,” He admits and Harry’s surprised this guy isn’t dead already, no brakes and no helmet.

He glares down at the smaller boy, who’s wearing a vest top and obnoxiously white trainers.

“Invest in some,” Is all he says before he’s picking up his bike and inspecting it for scratches.

“No damage done eh?”

 _Lucky for you,_ Harry grumbles internally, because he loves this bike.

His jeans have ripped open at the knee but that’s about it.

“You can go,” He tells the other boy who’s still hovering.

“Just feel bad mate, could buy ya a pint to make up for it?”

The blue eyed blonde waggles his eyebrows.

Harry doesn’t even like beer all that much, but in this heat it sounds like a cheap version of paradise.  Only he’s not one to ride under the influence and given what’s just happened alcohol doesn’t seem like something that should be thrown into the mix with this Irish bloke.

“Probably not the best idea,” Harry gestures to his motorbike.

The blonde grins at him.

Harry reluctantly admits to himself that this cycling fool is attractive.

“Some other time then?”

And Harry finds himself nodding because it’s free drinks and not at all to do with the fact that blondie is fit.

“Great,” The blonde beams before he’s holding out his hand for Harry’s phone.

“Name’s Niall by the way,” He smiles whilst pressing the dial button.

“Harry,” He replies watching as Niall saves his number into his own mobile.

“Look forward to it,” And then he’s handing back Harry’s phone, getting on his bike and riding through another red light.

It has Harry wondering how many men on motorbikes Niall’s taken out for ‘forgive me’ drinks.

 

****

 

Harry’s eating a banana in bed when his phone rings.

“How about that pint?”

He hadn’t actually thought that Niall would bother with the follow through, but it’s a Thursday evening and Zayn’s out on a date so why not?

“Why not?” He finds himself echoing out loud, kicking off his bed sheets.

“Meet me at the scene of yesterdays crime in an hour,” And before Harry can even begin to agree his phone beeps to indicate a disconnection.

 

****

 

Harry really doesn’t see the appeal in pubs but he _does_ see the appeal in Niall. He’s got pretty lips that stretch nicely over his teeth when he smiles.

“I’ll give ya three guesses as to where I’m from,” Niall winks as he sets down another two pints.

“You’re Irish.” Harry states dead serious, but then he knows he’s tipsy because he’s _giggling_ at something that sober Harry wouldn’t even crack a smirk at.

Niall takes a long sip of his drink.

“Why did you move to London?”

“What makes you think I’m not a Londoner?” Harry questions before reaching blindly to adjust the bandana on his head.

Niall gives him a knowing look.

Harry shrugs.

“Why does anyone leave home?”

“And where is home exactly?”

“Cheshire.”

Niall nods and then grins.

“Like the cat.”

And even as Harry palms his face he knows he’s gone for.

 

 ****

 

Niall offers to walk him home. It’s really not that far but Harry has probably had one pint too many.

“How are you not shit faced?” He questions and he can hear its slow slur.

“Irish mate,” Niall states as if that explains everything.

There’s a slight awkward silence but Harry’s too focused on walking straight to pick up on it.

“You at Uni?” Niall asks as they turn a street corner.

“On a gap year,” Harry sighs lazily.

“Me too,” The blonde smiles “A never ending one.”

A chuckle escapes Harry's throat before he stops outside the small Victorian house that’s been turned into three flats.

“This is me.”

“Live alone?” And he thinks that maybe just maybe Niall is staring at his lips.

Harry shakes his head.

“Roomate?”

Harry nods, he’s too drunk for all these questions.

He shuffles in his jean pocket for his keys; he manages to pry them out before they drop to the concrete floor. They lie there for a second and then his new Irish friend bends to retrieve them for him.

“Cheers,” the brunette smiles as Niall places them tightly within his grip.

They’re standing closer than before, Harry’s sure of it.

“Do you want to come in?”

The crinkles forming by Niall’s eyes indicate that he’s smiling.

“Is that your way of asking for my help up those shady looking steps?”

“You got me,” Harry murmurs, then he’s pushing the gate open and probably staggering towards the front door.

When he looks back, Niall’s watching him.

Harry scrunches up his eyebrows “I’m not going to ask twice.”

“Okay, okay,” And then Niall’s following closely behind him, hand on his hip, guiding him up the stairs.

“Lightweight,” He mutters near Harry’s ear as they finally get through the front door and up the stair case leading to the flat that Harry shares with Zayn.

Harry tries and fails to quietly locate his room.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” He sing songs finally shrugging off his jacket. The leather slumps to the floor.

The light above him begins to slowly light.

“Ya need a new bulb,” Niall observes.

“No, no,” Harry tells him from his position on the edge of his bed “It’s energy saving.”

“Shite is what it is mate.”

Harry flashes him a toothy smile before kicking off his boots, it half works but he needs to bend down to remove them properly.

“Nice tats,” Niall tells him looking at the decoration down Harry’s left arm.

“This one’s my favourite,” He informs Niall proudly, pulling his shirt up to show Niall the moth inked onto his stomach.

“Got a thing for butterflies?” But he’s eyeing it with interest.

“S’not a butterfly,” Harry sighs before dropping onto his back.

He can hear Niall shuffling with his own shirt and shoes.

The bed beside him dips.

“Gotta admit, this wasn’t how I saw tonight going.”

“Yeah? What did you expect?” Harry asks, hand removing his bandana and eyes fluttering closed.

“A blow job at the very least.”

“Pft, you’re supposed to be apologising to _me_.”

“I did, with pints, and you’re supposed to forgive me with blow jobs.”

Harry laughs out loud.

“S’alright, there’s always tomorrow.”

It’s the last thing Niall says to him before Harry’s fast asleep.

 

****

 

Harry wakes up sweaty, with bleach blonde hair tickling his chin.

His jeans were not designed to be slept in at all.

And the first thing that his memory recalls is the word ‘blowjobs’, even though he’s almost one hundred percent sure he sucked zero dicks yesterday.

“Mornin,” The Irish accent reminds him that Niall is very much pressed up against him in all his attractive glory. “Hung-over?”

“You wish.”

“Thought you’d have a stronger head, what with all that hair,” Niall chuckles and before Harry can open his mouth to offer up a retort, chapped lips are being pressed against his own for a short second.

Harry’s resolve weakens, Niall’s something special.

“How about the first of many blowjobs and then some breakfast?”

And he’s pretty sure he’ll never forget that smile.

 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is Narrywillbethedeathofme if you want to submit prompts :)


End file.
